


Something More

by badjujuboo (miztrezboo)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Canon Compliant, Comeplay, Face-Fucking, M/M, Near Future, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 06:53:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2141304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miztrezboo/pseuds/badjujuboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's late and Harry hasn't been home long and he hasn't seen Niall in longer. . . which doesn't explain the drunk irish man at his front gate telling the entire street that Harry's gate code is his old X Factor audition number. </p><p>Even if he keeps trying Liam's not Harry's, wondering why it's wrong.</p><p> </p><p>or the future!ish canon fic that's basically porn with feelings. because i can't not write feelings. ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something More

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mrsyt31](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsyt31/gifts).



> i know you wanted fluff, E. . . and this is me TRYING OKAY. Happy is HARD but I hope this is good enough xoxo
> 
> Beta'do by the fab mamacitasan

Harry has no idea what the time is when he stumbles out of bed. The sound of the buzzer at his front gate is loud, alongside the Irish brogue yelling at him through the speaker to "Wake the fuck up already, Styles!" The funny part about all of this, as Harry rubs at his eyes and tries to pull some pants on all at the same time, is that, sober, Niall knows the entrance code.

Niall isn't sober.

Not as far as Harry can tell from the creative cursing and the yelling in the street which, if anyone didn't know this was where Harry Styles called home, they certainly do now. Even as he sleepily makes his way down the staircase and through the hall, buzzing Niall in as he goes, he knows he's going to have to call security about this in the morning. He'll have to change his code, too. "Jaysus, Harry. I can't remember if your audition number started with a 23 or a 24?" Niall had giggled, loudly.

It was a 16, so Niall had been miles off. Though Liam's started with a 23, so maybe not all that off, just the wrong band member.

He can hear something smash out front as he pads his way through the dark, flicking the lights on as he goes. It's probably his newly repotted hydrangeas, which is slightly annoying because it's the first time they've had a good showing since Harry's been home. Well, since Harry's been at his London house to actually see them. 

Niall's banging at the front door now, which is ridiculous as he knows Harry's coming. Niall must be blind rotten drunk to not remember that he doesn't have to knock. Harry never bothers locking the front door; the seven-foot-high brick fence out front and the gate are enough to keep anyone out. Well, that's what Harry tells himself when he hears the odd sound late at night and remembers that he forgot to turn the lock before turning in.

Still, he's had this place for years now. Whether he's been at home in it or not, there's never been a break in or a crazed fan scaling the wall, so it can't be that bad. 

"Shut up, already, I'm comin'!" Harry calls through a yawn, slipping on what looks like one of Louis' socks. He'd stripped his feet bare when they'd had dinner earlier that night - or the night before, as it were. 

Louis never was keen on having his feet contained when he didn't have to. Especially when he'd had a few, and he'd had more than his fair share of the bottles of red Harry'd brought home with him from his last trip to Napa. Liam had apologised about Louis' mess as he'd nearly carried Louis out the door, intent on dragging them both home. Liam's cheeks flushed pink with a crinkle-eyed smile as Louis smacked loud, wet kisses on whatever part of Liam he could get his lips on. Louis was even more handsy than normal when he'd had a few. Harry wasn't sure if Liam was going to get them both to their respective houses without one of them ending up naked.

"Harry!" Niall's voice is loud, even through the door, and there's a thump which Harry hopes means he's _finally_ got to the bloody thing. 

"I'm here," Harry says, and he turns the handle, and then he's being pushed backward.

"Bed, bed, bed," Niall sing-songs as he crashes in through Harry's front door. "I want to go to bed."

Harry laughs and opens the door the rest of the way to be confronted by an extremely drunk Niall, who's all hands and a hot mouth as he falls upon Harry. His arms wrap around Harry's shoulders and his face turns into Harry's neck so all Harry can smell is booze and smoke in Niall's hair that tickles under his nose when he turns his head. 

“All right, mate, all right," Harry says through a laugh, stumbling backward a bit with the heavy weight of Niall clinging to him like a limpet. "Just let me shut the door."

Niall whines and steps closer to Harry so their bodies are nearly flush together, but Harry finds a way to get his hand on the door and push it. It shuts with a soft snick, and the moment it does Niall's at Harry, shoving and mumbling something at Harry's neck until Harry’s back hits the wall.

"Bed," Niall says again, this time at the hinge of Harry's jaw, and _Christ,_ Harry was asleep a few minutes ago but his whole body is more than awake now. "Bed, Haz, I want to go to _bed_."

Niall slips sideways a bit and Harry's hands automatically go to his hips, holding on to steady Niall so he won’t fall. His skin is hot under Harry's touch, fingertips sliding up under that stupid American flag vest Niall still loves to wear though it's nearly threadbare now. It's the one he usually sleeps in, so it makes Harry wonder again exactly why Niall is here at arse o'clock in the morning, reeking of alcohol. 

"You know this isn't your house, right? Don't you have a perfectly serviceable bed at your own home?" Harry asks, sucking in a breath of air when Niall bites at the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

"But," Niall says, teeth now grazing Harry's jaw, “but you’re not in it, are ya?" He laughs, but it's not bright like usual. It sounds different. The sound peters out as Niall licks at where he's pressed his teeth none too lightly into Harry's skin, sending shivers down Harry's spine.

Niall leans back and his eyes are blue, blue, blue. Harry isn't sure exactly what's going on. Niall grins, tilting his head to the side, and his hand slides up and curves around Harry's cheek. He just looks at Harry, rubbing his thumb slowly over Harry's bottom lip, and something dark and needy kicks into life in the pit of Harry's stomach. Something he hasn't had to think about with Niall in a long while.

"You never are," Niall says softly, so quietly that Harry isn't entirely sure he's heard it, and then Niall's falling forward, his lips crashing into Harry's with biting force.

Harry lets Niall kiss him for a bit, his hands tight on Niall's waist as Niall presses in, nudging his top lip against Harry's. Harry can blame not being entirely awake for how quickly he gives in. How easy he is, opening his mouth to the flick of Niall's enquiring tongue. He can pretend he's not affected at all by the moan Niall releases at this, but he'd be lying. Still, he keeps his hands pinned to the soft skin above the curve of Niall's hipbones, figuring a drunken snog isn't all too bad.

The thing is, with Niall? It's never _just_ a snog.

"Fuck, Harry. Why were you gone so long?" Niall murmurs, lips shifting to the corner of Harry’s mouth, the side of his jaw, pausing over the fluttering pulse of his heart that lies under thin skin. "You're always _gone_ ," Niall says with a sad sigh, head dropping onto Harry's shoulder, and he sounds broken by it. 

There are loads of reasons why Harry spends more of his time in L.A. than here. He likes the sun, likes the somewhat anonymity he finds as he catches up with friends at hotels and spends time by the pool working on his year-round tan. He likes riding his bike along the coastline with the wind in his face and the sound of the ocean at his ear when he stops and just _looks_ , taking in the world. He likes sleeping with people who take his fancy. People whose minds he likes to work out, people whose smiles make his heart stutter. People who aren't members of his band that he can't really afford to play out any other form of relationship than friendship with. Not if he wants to keep his heart whole. 

He's been down that road, as one-sided as it eventually was, and he won't risk it all again. 

Not even if he really, _really_ wants to.

"I _miss_ you," Niall whimpers. His hands slide down over Harry's chest and Harry shivers, more from the cold because Niall's fingertips are ice-cold on his bare skin. Harry's regretting not having at least thrown a shirt on, but it wasn't as if he expected to end up with Niall like this.

Well, it wasn't the first thought to enter his mind, anyhow.

"Niall—" Harry starts, only to be cut off as Niall drops to his knees, pulling Harry's pants down as he goes. He looks up and Harry takes a shuddery breath in. The words _"stop"_ and _"what are you doing?"_ are on the tip of Harry's tongue, only to be lost when Niall licks over the length of his half-hard cock.

"Jesus," Harry gasps. Niall chuckles for a second as he fits his lips over the crown, taking Harry in. One hand slides down Harry's thigh while the other pushes Harry hard against the wall, right over one of the palm fronds and the old "Might as well" that Zayn inked there a long time ago. 

Harry blinks rapidly, thinking maybe it'll clear his head a bit, wake him up so he can get Niall to stop. He can still see Niall in the dark flicker of his eyelids, more so when he has to close them completely as Niall curls his fingers around the base, stroking Harry slowly. His cock is fattening up quickly with Niall's tongue pressed firmly to the underside, his spit making the slide of his hand slick and sure. 

Harry's hands are pressed to the wall, fingertips tapping against the wallpaper, catching on the raised print. He doesn't know what to do with them; this whole situation is not one he'd imagined happening. Hasn't let himself imagine for nearly a year now. Niall's making these sounds like sucking Harry off is the best thing in the world right now, and it's doing nothing but make Harry harder. His chest is tight as he pants and bites at his lip, not wanting to say anything that'll break whatever this is between them. 

Niall's fingertips are a hard press at Harry's hip and Harry _knows_ he should stop him. Niall’s drunk and not thinking clearly, obviously. But he came here. He came to Harry and he kissed Harry like he used to. Kissed him and dropped to his knees like a dozen different times Harry could think of when they were young and lonely on the road. If Harry closes his eyes he can imagine they're back in some hotel in Miami, soft carpet underfoot. Or pressed against the glass doors of that amazing view in Brazil. Or that one time when they returned to the X Factor studios and Niall pushed him into a broom cupboard, putting new memories over ones from before that had never quite faded. Washing away a different set of blue eyes, of a swoop of toffee-coloured hair and a pointy-toothed smile. 

Niall makes this choking sound and it brings Harry back from the past. He shifts back as best he can, what with Niall basically pinning him to the wall, but Niall's having none of it. He pulls off for a second, a line of spit and precome snapping slowly between his lip and the head of Harry's cock. 

"C'mon, _c'mon,_ " he says with this need, this ache in his tone, and he grabs at Harry's wrist, pulling his hand onto the top of Niall's head. This dirty moan vibrates around Harry's cock as Niall's mouth slides back down Harry's length, and Harry's fingers tangle into Niall's hair. It's rougher than normal, freshly bleached so it feels like straw. His grip tightens as Niall does something awfully good with his tongue, and a low groan rips from Harry’s throat as his head smacks back against the wall.

His obvious enjoyment has Niall working more of him into his mouth. He sucks on Harry with renewed vigour and it's so wet, he always makes it _so wet_ , that Harry can feel it between his thighs. Niall's never been anything but enthusiastic when it comes to giving head; finesse and technique take second place to getting Harry off. It works, because Harry's usually so into it whenever Niall does this that he doesn't care how sloppy it is, he only gets turned on all the more by how much Niall _likes_ doing it. 

He's pushing his head up into Harry's hand and Harry laces his fingers tightly in Niall's hair. He knows what Niall wants but checks anyway, raising a brow at Niall who's looking up through his lashes, wet with tears from before. Niall blinks and his eyes are more black than blue, dark with arousal. The fucker winks as Harry nearly whispers his name, and Niall opens his mouth wider and goes still, his shoulders dropping down as he gives in to Harry's touch.

Harry moans with the first tug forward he makes, using the tight grip he has on Niall's hair. The tip of his dick hits the back of Niall's throat, nudging it. He goes slowly, knowing exactly what Niall wants. They've only ever indulged in this when they don’t have a concert the next day or something that requires Niall's voice. Not that they’ve done this often . . . but often enough that Harry knows the signs for when Niall's had enough of him being polite and wants him to fuck his mouth properly. 

He makes Niall wait for it a little longer, getting used to the tight squeeze and heat of Niall's mouth himself. It's when Niall tightens his grip on Harry's thigh, his fingers nearly pinching at his skin, that Harry rocks forward. He watches Niall's eyes roll back into his head as Harry uses him like Niall so obviously wants. It's so hot and wet, _so_ wet, and Niall's _tongue_ . . . .

Harry gives in, gives in completely to holding Niall's head in place, to the stilted snap of his hips as he gets a rhythm going. Niall's making these cut-off moans, and the quiet of the sleeping house is filled with these filthy sounds as Niall chokes on Harry's dick. There are tears rolling down his cheeks with every flutter of his lashes and Harry has to bite hard on his lip to not say anything he shouldn't. Like how pretty and fucked-up Niall looks like this. How it turns something in Harry's chest and stomach to have Niall like this, completely giving himself to Harry. The _trust_ Niall has in him to do this - but when it comes to anything else?

Then again, that's also Harry's fault. He doesn't trust his heart with anyone.

His cock, however, is something else entirely.

He pulls off after a bit, lets Niall breathe as he rubs the dark red tip across Niall's bruised lips, puffing up as blood rushes back in from being drawn so tight before. 

"Christ, Niall," Harry breathes out, and his voice sounds tender to his own ears. God, he wants more. He's got Niall on his _knees_ , the pink of his tongue peeking out to lick at the stream of precome mixed with his own spit like he just can't get enough, and still Harry _wants_. He wants Niall on his bed, spread out and aching for it, _begging_ for Harry to fuck him good and proper. He wants Niall with his arse in the air, shaking, voice muffled in the pillow as Harry's three fingers deep and working on a fourth. He wants Niall a stuttering mess as he takes him apart with just his tongue, sucking at his hole like it's a three-course meal. He wants all the things that they've done before and all the things they never did but he wants _more_.

He wants waking up the next day and _staying_ in bed just to talk and hide under the duvet talking about nothing and everything. He wants to hold Niall's hand and to smile and not care who sees. He wants to go golfing and to bloody dip Niall low on the course, snogging the life out of him when he gets a birdie on par four. He wants the stupid and the boring and the mundane and he wants to love Niall properly. He wants to give in and put his heart on the line and leave himself open for all of it. He wants to be brave enough to risk being hurt but he can't . . . he can't.

He's not young and stupid and reckless anymore.

"Fuck me, Haz. I want ya to," Niall croaks out, leaning in so Harry's cock rubs against the soft round of his cheek, an almost affectionate touch. "I've missed you so."

 _Me, or my cock and how easy I am for you?_ Harry thinks, but he says nothing, just nods.

"Yeah, yeah, c'mon," he says instead, shaking his head a little to clear his sex-fuelled mind long enough to get his hands under Niall's armpits and pull him up to his feet.

Niall's kissing Harry as soon as he's able to stand, his tongue this wicked flick and press in Harry's mouth, rubbing deliciously against Harry's own. Niall breaks away first and his hand finds Harry's and tugs him along with a half-grin, his eyes sparkling, and an obvious tent in the joggers he's wearing, and Harry wonders again what Niall was doing before he turned up here, all loud and causing a ruckus and virtually demanding to suck Harry's cock. Was he at home and horny? Was he drinking with friends - Harry knows Bressie is in town and Dermot, too - and decided he'd see if Harry'd be up for it? Did he know how quickly Harry'd give in?

Is Harry just nothing more than someone Niall can rely on to get him off?

This is why Harry should never have set foot back in the country. He was happy in L.A. Happy with the life he'd cultivated for himself over the years. But here, with Niall and his smile and the way he kisses Harry like it _means_ something . . . he never can stay away from Niall for long.

"C'mon, Harry, can't get to this fucking business if we stay here. Unless, o' course, you got some slick hidden in your little table there," Niall says with a grin, nodding at the table on the other side of where they're standing. There's a photo Harry took on his last trip down the coast of Mexico framed there, the keys to his Range Rover and a few Tootsie Roll lollipop _things_ he'd had in his pocket from the flight over the week before.

"Yeah - I mean, no," Harry answers with a shake of his head. Niall just stares and Harry chuckles. It's not his fault he can't think all that clearly. Most of his blood isn't exactly moving its way around his brain right now. "Shut _up_ ," he whines, and Niall tugs him forward, kissing Harry's lips quickly before he moves them along.

Harry shakes his pants off from around his ankles as they head back down the hall and up the stairs. Niall doesn't let go of his hand and Harry pretends it doesn't mean as much as he wants it to.

They've never talked about it, is the thing. They’ve never talked about the fun they have while they tour, or when they were off and Harry was around when they sort of fell into each other. They’ve both had partners at one time or another, and they'd cool everything off and it was fine. Then things would change and it'd start up all over again. This thing between them hasn't been between them for a year now, and they've both been single for around the same time. It just . . . stopped. Harry knows his own reasons but he's never asked Niall about his. Never let himself wonder why they both just gave up. There was another album to write and a tour to plan. Time off seemed like a bloody blessing even though it never really was "time off." How could there be, when their celebrity status never really allowed them to shut down and be anything else?

"You good there, Harry?" Niall asks, and Harry blinks, wondering exactly when it was they'd gotten up the stairs and with Niall at the foot of Harry's bed, stripping himself off.

He's suddenly not sure about this, not entirely certain whether he wants to go down this road again. Whether he can let himself just feel good and do this with Niall like it's something that they _can_ do. Like it doesn't mean more than the bare bones of what it is, a little fucking between friends.

"No," he says with a nod, the opposite of what he was going for. Niall looks puzzled and Harry feels his face heat. He should shake this off. He should shake off the melancholy that's filled his bones in the short walk back to his bedroom while Niall's fingers fitted perfectly between the spaces of his own. He should, but he can't.

"I can't do this," he finds himself saying out loud, and Niall stops stepping out of his pants and straightens up slowly.

"Can't get on the bed? I mean, I'm still a little unsteady on my feet but I reckon I could lift you, if you want," Niall says with a smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes. He knows exactly what Harry's talking about, joking aside.

Harry steps forward and sits down on the edge of the bed and runs his hands through his hair. It's in need of a cut but he likes it long. Likes how it feels curling around his ears, fluttering at his neck when he's putting his foot down on an open road. It has nothing to do with how Niall said he looked really good with it like this at Jay's wedding that time. It's Harry's hair. He'll do with it what he wants.

He takes in a steadying breath as Niall sits down gently beside him and brushes his shoulder against Harry's before his lips meet softly against Harry's skin in the same place.

"Where'd you go?" he asks, his voice soft and still husky from what they did before. Before, when Harry's cock and Niall's throat did all Harry’s thinking for him. "You did that thing again, like you used to. Where you disappear in that head of yours."

Harry shrugs, his heart heavy and this weight on his chest that's familiar from nights when Niall would walk out and sleep in his own room. From nights when Niall would take a girl home and Harry would walk back to his suite on his own. From days when Niall would give him a grin, kiss his cheek, and wave him off as they made their separate ways to separate homes.

"We haven't done this in a while, is that what it is?" Niall's fingertips are a little unsteady as he brushes the hair off Harry's forehead, down behind his ear.

Harry's skin prickles with gooseflesh from the tender gesture. It's something Niall's done a million times before, but it's different like this. It's different because they're both naked and they're not doing anything now, but they were before. They were before Harry's head took over and his heart made itself known and his cock went soft.

He never was good at leaving feelings out of sex. He couldn't do it with Louis or Nick or even pretend with Taylor. It's no wonder he can't do it with Niall. Not when Niall could possibly mean so much more.

"Why are you here, Niall? Why have you come?"

Niall breathes in and Harry can feel it, they're sitting so close. "I haven't seen ya since you got back," he says in a rush. "You've seen everyone else but me. Even Zayn got a visit and a phone call and you didn't . . . you didn't even call."

Harry bites at his lip and looks down at his feet and notices the sock-tan Niall has on his own, his toes tapping on the carpet. He'd heard from Liam that Niall had been playing golf in Melbourne over the Christmas break, visiting his family Down Under. Harry always thought it was funny that Niall would burn and freckle everywhere else but his legs would end up with even colour. Harry would know; he'd explored every inch of Niall at one time or another.

Still, it's weird to look at now.

"Didn't you want to?" Niall says, and he sounds a lot more sober than before, a lot more hurt.

Harry shakes his head, "No, it wasn't - it wasn't like that." He pauses, stalling for a way to say he couldn't call because he didn't know how to be just Niall's friend anymore. He didn't know how they fit together when they weren't _together_ anymore.

"Well, what was it like then? Because you’re fine not calling me when you live in L.A. You were fine ignoring me on the last tour, and you seemed fine not ten minutes ago fucking my mouth!"

Harry closes his eyes and swallows hard. Niall _is_ hurt, Harry can hear it, and he has every right to be, but so does Harry. Whatever has gone on between them now and in the past has had two people involved. Not just one.

"You stopped, too, you know. You didn't come over and you hung out with Mark and the other lads more and you never - you never said—" Harry breathes in, all shaky with how much this hurts, to be laying it all out there. But he's started now, might as well show all his cards and leave everything on the table. There's another four months before the next tour when they'll have to learn to be around each other again, make situations normal for everyone while faking that it doesn't matter when Niall's smile isn't ever directed at Harry properly.

"All the times we did stuff, all the times we were together we never discussed what it was, like . . . we fucked and we had a laugh and all, but that was it. I just - I couldn't keep doing that. Not when I wanted it to be different," Harry finishes softly.

"You didn't think I wanted that?" Niall asks, and his voice is strained like he's trying to hold something back. It's enough to make Harry turn a little, and Niall looks . . . he looks sad. He looks sad.

Harry’s fingers twitch nervously on the duvet between them as Niall continues, his voice barely above a whisper. "Neither of us ever said anything, and when we started it was fun, yeah? It was a laugh and something to do, but you know I'm not like that. You should _know_ that it always meant something to me, Harry. You've always done."

He laughs and it's broken and it tugs at Harry's heart, has his eyes stinging so he has to rub at them with the heel of his palm.

"Ever since you came home that time when the band first got together and you shared a bed with me, mate. Ever since I woke up with your bloody morning wood against me bum."

Harry barks out a laugh, his cheeks reddening because he remembers that, too. He remembers Niall rocking his hips back and leaning back to grab at Harry's hand, pulling it over his hip and guiding it down to his own hard cock. He remembers Niall turning his head, fitting his lips awkwardly to Harry's with a "Louis doesn't have to know." Harry and Louis weren't even an _anything_ then, but Harry'd blushed and gotten off, rubbing against Niall's arse while jerking him off quicker than he'd ever done before. That was the first and last time for a long time. Then they'd woken up together after passing out on the bed early one morning after being out late at some club and it had happened again. This time without the mention of Louis. This time without a word said at all.

"You've always kept your distance and I understood. Or tried to. I figured eventually you'd tell me what you wanted, you'd always been so open about things like that before. But you never said anything about us. You never said you wanted anything else, and I never wanted to push, y'know? I still remember how it was after you and Tommo. I figured you didn't want that again." Niall’s fingertips slide over Harry's now, light and reassuring although barely there at all.

It's like Niall's saying all the things Harry’s thought, all the reasons Harry’s kept his feelings back this time, and it's a relief. It's a relief, but Harry is also kicking himself for staying silent for so long.

"I didn't—" Harry coughs, clears his throat from all the feelings Niall's confession have built there. "I didn't know if I could do it again and we both seemed happy with what was going on. I don't know why we stopped. Why'd you stop?"

"I stopped," Niall says, and his voice trails off. He's quiet for a few moments and Harry thinks maybe he's not going to say any more. His hand is still on top of Harry's, though, so Harry waits it out, even though his heart is going nineteen to the dozen, threatening to break out of his chest. "I stopped because I didn't think you would. I thought you'd keep us going like that until you found someone else, and I didn't _want_ anyone else. I still don't."

Harry can't breathe. He can't breathe and he can only hear his heart racing in his ears alongside Niall's words. It's everything he wanted and never thought for a moment that Niall would admit to wanting in return. It makes him smile and turn his hand over, fitting their fingers together, palm to palm.

"I just want an us," Niall finishes, and Harry turns and kisses the exhale of air from Niall's lips before he can say any more.

Niall does nothing for a moment, but Harry squeezes his hand and licks tentatively at the seam of his lips and then he's opening up and letting Harry in. Harry wants more than just in his mouth, though. He wants all of Niall's heart, and from the sound of everything Niall's said, he can have it. He _has_ had it. Niall's eyes are still so blue when he opens them, watching Harry kiss him as much as Harry's been watching him. It feels like he's always watched Niall, but maybe Niall's done the same, too.

"We gonna fuck now?" Niall says as Harry guides them back onto the bed to lie on their sides with their hands still clasped between them. Lips slide easily over each other's with nothing but the need for connection, not forcing anything more.

Harry pulls back a little, leaving the barest of space between them, their lips grazing against each other's as he talks. "If you want to, yeah. I'd be happy just to do this, too, though," he answers honestly, only to giggle as Niall pushes him over. Niall gets himself seated over Harry's middle and leans down, their joined hands high above Harry's head, his arms stretched out. There's a wicked glint in his eye as he rubs his arse back against Harry's half-hard cock. The kissing has got to him, and usually he can really go either way when it comes to a good snog. Harry is content to ignore it if it means he can keep kissing Niall for as long as he wants.

"It's been a very long time, Harry. A very long time," Niall says, punctuating the last four words with particular rolls of his hips so their cocks collide, sliding against each other. Niall's harder than Harry but when Niall's hand slips between them and grips them both, Harry doesn't think it'll take that long for his cock to catch up.

"In case I didn't say - _oh fuck_ \- before," Harry stutters, Niall's lips on his jaw a wet, warm press at the hollow of his throat, "I want you, I've always wanted you, too. More than this, though. I want . . . ." Niall takes a deep breath and pauses, his face coming back into Harry's eyeline.

"More."

Harry nods and Niall's smile is blinding. They're on the same page, they're here together, and everything from now, whether they wake up in the morning and realise this was all a mistake or if ten months from now it comes collapsing down around their shoulders, _nothing_ matters but the here and now.

"More," Harry echoes, and he lifts his head from the bed and captures Niall's lips as he squeezes their one set of still-joined hands together. The other pair are already under the pillow at his head, searching around for the slick he knows he had hidden there before he left for L.A. months ago. Christ, he hopes the cleaners haven't thrown it away; it was nearly empty, but still. There'd be enough. Enough for now, or they'll have to wait until morning when one of them can brave the bloody shop.

He finds it with a gasp as Niall does something with his thumb at the tip of Harry's cock, their foreskins catching on each other as Niall fists them fast. Harry's still wet from before and Niall's getting there with all the friction, and probably from the little whimpers leaving Harry's mouth as Niall's teeth graze one of Harry's nipples. It's as if no time has passed between them. They've been in this position before. The knowledge of likes and dislikes, secret places to press and touch lightly or scratch harshly are all known. They can give to each other as good as they get, working themselves up fast, which is good because Harry wants it. Wants Niall sitting on his cock, wants to feel Niall as close as he can. He concentrates on opening the tub of slick, a little sad that he has to let go of Niall's hand to get the job done, but it frees Niall up to touch Harry some more so he can't mind all that much.

He wets two fingers with slick and slides his un-sticky hand down the shifting line of muscle of Niall's back. Gets his hand on Niall's arse and starts shifting his cheeks apart, lining up his fingers with the crease and sliding slippery fingers down until Niall gasps just as Harry's index finger trips over the puckered rim of Niall's hole.

"It's okay, you can be a little rough. You know—"

"—you like it. Yeah, I remember," Harry says with a grin, because he does. He knows that Niall likes the burn of it, the first real stretch that Harry's fingers give him before Harry gets his cock in there and it's different, it's more.

Niall grins into Harry's neck, his hand stilling on their dicks for a moment as Harry pushes one finger in to the first knuckle. A slow press and slide out and Niall moans Harry's name into the skin at his throat. His teeth graze Harry's pulse as the finger shifts in and out until there's a hitch in Niall's breath that Harry knows, from doing this so many times before, means Niall's ready for more. He slides the second in quickly, scissoring them apart as soon as Niall starts shifting back onto Harry's hand, eager for it.

Harry's so fucking turned on and his heart is so full that he finds Niall's mouth quickly, eager to press his lips to Niall's with words he can't yet say. Words that are just waiting for a time when fucking Niall and making Niall come aren't taking precedence over everything else. He'll tell him, though. He'll tell him everything and take a chance that it'll all work out. He can't keep hiding behind the idea that it might go wrong, because it might _not_.

"I want it," Niall says, his voice deep and almost guttural at Harry's ear, sweat curling his hair to his forehead as they get more worked up. "I want you now. I want you always." 

Niall's babbling, but it makes Harry's heart so full that he can't stop himself, can't bite back what he's thought and felt for _so long_. "I love you, you know that? I've loved you for so long it's like I don't know anything else."

Niall's lips come crashing into Harry's and he shifts up on his knees, tugging at Harry's hand until Harry's fingers come sliding out. Before Harry's even ready, Niall's got himself lined up directly over Harry's cock. He's wet with a combination of their precome and the last remains of Harry being in Niall's mouth, and it shouldn't be enough. But Niall obviously doesn't want to wait, from the way he sits himself up properly, putting his hand on Harry's stomach just below the moth, and closes his eyes in concentration. Harry can't breathe as Niall gets himself seated, then slides down Harry's length so slowly, so steadily that it feels like a forever, and Niall's so fucking _warm_. When he finally stops, Harry breathes out and Niall laughs, this puff of a thing really, and Harry opens his eyes to look at him, not realising he'd closed them at all.

Niall’s so beautiful. So utterly gorgeous with his hair all burnished gold in the light from the lamp that Harry flicked on when he heard the buzzing of Niall's arrival before. His eyes are these rings of bright blue surrounding the black, cheeks flushed pink, staining cherry down his chest. His cock stands proud, dark at the crown and glistening almost, as Harry watches another bubble of precome burble out at the tip and slide down the mess that covers the rest. He grasps at the sheets below him when Niall finally moves, his thighs bracketing Harry's waist as he finds a rhythm that makes Harry see stars and has Niall cursing in that way he does when it feels too good, too much.

Niall fucks Harry slowly, kisses his way over the ink that's littered over Harry's skin, and Harry can only gasp at each sensation. He fits his hands over the curve of Niall's waist, guiding him on until Niall's almost got a hiccough in his breathing, which means he's close. Harry slides one hand between them and gets a grip on Niall's cock, smiling into the fierce kiss Niall gives him as he works the head fast.

"Yes, just . . . like—" Niall whimpers against Harry's lips, and Harry can feel his own orgasm tugging like a hook behind his belly button, this feeling that is working its way up from the curl of his toes as Niall speeds up. He alternates between really fucking down on Harry's cock and this slow grind where he hardly moves at all, and it's too much. It's all too much with what's been revealed and how Niall feels and the way he's kissing Harry's mouth. He's near taking all of Harry's breath directly from the source like it's sustenance, and Harry can't keep up.

"C'mon, Niall. C'mon," he eggs Niall on, and Niall moans, his back straightening as he comes in these hot stripes of white over Harry's golden skin. His everlasting tan from L.A. doesn’t fade even after a month of next to no sun. Harry grips Niall's hips again and holds firmly enough that he knows he'll bruise Niall's pale skin, but he's so close himself. He's right there as he raises his legs up, his feet planted on the mattress as he fucks Niall through the end of his own orgasm until he's coming himself, Niall's name a barely-there sound on Harry's lips.

He keeps on fucking up into Niall until Niall falls to the side, mostly on top of Harry, wincing as his dick slides roughly out. Niall calls him a cunt and Harry laughs breathlessly and bites at Niall's shoulder, the closest part of Niall to his mouth at that moment. They lie there like that, messy and barely breathing, hearts beating wildly, for a long while. Eventually Niall moves, turning to wrap himself over Harry more and hooking his ankle over Harry's own, his fingertips playing in the cold mess of his own come on Harry's stomach.

Harry screws up his face up. "Nialler," he admonishes, because yeah, it's Niall's mess, but _still_. If one of them doesn't get up and clean the other off or if they don't brave a shower together, it's going to dry everywhere instead of in one or three different spots.

"May I remind you that I'm the one with come up my bum right now?" Niall says with a smile, and Harry mimes gagging only to whine out a long _"Hey!_ when Niall slaps at his stomach. It stings but he doesn't mind all that much. Niall really does have it worse.

"You were the one who decided on that. It's not my fault you didn't go looking in the top drawer."

Niall props himself up on his elbow, looking a lot more serious than before. His hair is sticking up everywhere, sweat curling the ends of it. He always gets so bloody sweaty from any form of physical activity. He was the reason their makeshift studios in hotel rooms on tour always bloody stank. Boy and man and musk and Niall, no wonder Harry'd gotten hard recording most of their third album like that. He should have known.

Wasted time, but they could make up for it. They would. They had an endless amount of it ahead of them now.

"Probably should have discussed that, right?" Niall says, with a twitch to his brow that Harry hopes isn't regret.

"There hasn't been anyone for six months now. Even then it was a one-off," Harry admits, because he'd been lonely and Nick had offered and he always knew with Nick it was because he felt the same as Harry had, a hand job and a good snog and a hug before they fell into bed. "All clean when I was tested before I came home, though."

"Me, too. I mean, the test came back clear. Mark has it set up in my calendar on me phone." Niall grins and Harry laughs, because of _course_ he does. Bloody mother hen, their Mark is, when it comes to Niall. "We always go golfing after."

Harry rolls his eyes and Niall says something about his handicap getting better because of it and Harry says nothing back. He knows Niall doesn't play for the score, it's all for fun. "And the other?" he asks, because they're being honest and he wants to know, there's no point denying it. He hasn't heard anything about it from the other lads, and Liam could never keep anything a secret; he has no game face, that one.

Niall pinks up and shakes his head, dropping down to rest his cheek on Harry's chest, right over the littlest bird. "No one. Not since you."

"Not even a cheeky hand job from Bressie?" Harry asks, teasing. Mostly. He's never been entirely sure of the friendship there even with the age difference. Niall's like Harry, he finds things he likes in anyone, regardless of age or gender.

"Leave off!" Niall says, nipping at Harry's collarbone. Then he's up before they say anything else, tugging Harry up by the hand. "C'mon. We need a shower and you need to help me get your come out of my arse. Nothing I hate more than waking up with a sticky bum."

"I'll stick something in it," Harry says with a leer, the ease of their banter so familiar they drop straight back into it even after all this time. It warms Harry from his heart, inside and out.

"I might even let ya." Niall grins and winds their fingers together, limping a little on his bad knee like he always does after a good fuck. Especially one where he's been on top.

Harry says nothing else, just follows Niall into the tub. They don't get up to anything more than doing precisely what Niall mentioned. They clean each other up, and Harry's yawning by the time they're done. He can hear birds outside starting their call to the morning sun, and fuck, he wants to talk to Niall, wants to talk more about _everything_. He can barely keep his eyes open, though, as he helps Niall strip the bottom sheet off. They tug up the top sheet to lie on and Harry pulls the duvet up and over them. Niall curls into Harry's side once more, their faces close on one pillow as they stare at each other, blinking slowly until Harry can't keep his eyes open anymore. The sound of Niall's breathing evening out sends him slowly to sleep.

Niall's there when Harry wakes later that morning. He's there for the rest of the day and they talk about what they want and about all the things they've done that hurt the other. He's there the next week when they have all the lads over and talk about what they've decided, and he holds Harry's hand on the street. He kisses Harry stupid on par seven, not four, and it's there they get photographed by a pap who makes a tidy buck selling them out. He's right beside Harry, in the same bed they are now, when they come out on air with Grimmy on the other end of the line, cackling loudly from the speakers.

He's there and he never goes. Not even when it hurts, when it gets hard and one or other of them says something that cuts worse than the other could ever have thought. Neither of them leaves each other's side. They stay. In the end, it’s worth it. This something more.

**Author's Note:**

> I knooow this isn't the last chapter of Pretty Little Thing but SOMETIMES YOU JUST HAVE TO DO THINGS FOR YOUR SWEET POTATO WHEN SHE NEEDS IT. xo
> 
> PLT chapter up sunday at the LATEST x
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> [tumblr](http://www.slightlytotheleft.tumblr.com)


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